Page 20 of Owned

I don’t know when it happened. When Riku’s place became mine. When his bed became my bed. When I stopped thinking about leaving. But I know I don’t want to. Not after three months of bliss.

The morning light filters through the kitchen window, warm and golden, as I stand by the stove, stirring pancake batter in a mixing bowl, wearing nothing but one of Riku’s shirts. It’s too big, hanging off one shoulder, the hem brushing my bare thighs.

I should be focused on breakfast, but the weight of his gaze on my back is distracting as hell. I glance over my shoulder. He’s leaning against the counter, coffee in hand, watching me like I’m the most interesting thing in the world. His broad, tattooed chest on full display. Like a goddamn thirst trap.

I roll my eyes. “You just gonna stare at me all morning?”

His lips curve. “Maybe.”

I turn back to the stove, smiling. “Creep.”

I hear the quiet thud of his cup being set down. Oh shit. Then footsteps. Then warmth at my back, firm hands sliding overmy hips, pulling me back against him. His breath ghosts over my neck. I shiver. Riku’s lips brush my shoulder. Slow. Lazy. Possessive.

“Baby… breakfast,” I murmur, trying to ignore the way his fingers drag down the curve of my waist.

“Later.”

A hand slides under the hem of my shirt. I inhale shakily.

“I woke up, and you weren’t in bed.” His voice is low, rough, thick with desire.

I swallow hard. “Because I was cooking.”

“You were supposed to be in my arms.”

His words send heat through my body. His hands tighten on my hips. And I feel him—hard, ready, pressing against me from behind. I grip the counter with trembling fingers.

He chuckles, his lips trailing higher. “You’re in my house, wearing my shirt, making me breakfast. Fuck, baby…”

I barely have time to breathe before he spins me around, lifts me on top of the counter, and steps between my legs. The mixing bowl clatters on the marble countertop. Riku’s hands slide up my thighs, pushing them wider. His dark gaze, possessive.

His mouth covers mine. And just like that, breakfast is forgotten. The bowl clatters to the ground. But I don’t care. Because Riku is between my legs, his long, hard cock pressing against my melting pussy, kissing me like he’s starving.

His hands slide under my shirt, palms hot on my skin, fingersgripping, claiming, dragging me closer. I gasp into his mouth, and he deepens our kiss—hot, slow, delicious. Like he has all the time in the world. Like he plans to devour me, right here, right now.

“Riku, baby—” I barely get his name out before his fingers tighten, and suddenly, I’m not just sitting on the counter anymore—I’m flat against it, my back pressed to the cool surface, legs wrapping around his waist, body caged by his. He grabs the hem of my shirt and yanks it up, baring me to him. I shiver under his gaze, the way his eyes darken as they sweep over me, hunger rolling off him.

“Shoulda stayed in bed, baby,” he murmurs, trailing his lips down my neck, his hands gripping my thighs, spreading me wider.

“I was making you breakfast,” I whimper.

He chuckles, his breath hot against my skin. His teeth graze my collarbone. “Wantedyoufor breakfast.”

Then his mouth moves lower, dragging down my stomach, over my hip, until he’s kneeling between my legs. I suck in a sharp breath. Then his tongue finds me…

* * *

RIKU

She’s already so fucking wet. I groan, dragging my tongue through her slick heat, tasting, devouring, feeling her bodytremble under my grip. Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling, gripping, begging for more.

I smirk. “Impatient?”

Maryam whimpers, her hips jerking up. I hold her down, licking slowly, deep, watching her fall apart. She’s perfect like this. Shaking, gasping, coming undone just for me.

And I don’t stop. Not until she’s arching off the counter, crying out my name, thighs trembling around my head.

I stand, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, watching her chest rise and fall. Fucking mine.

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